


From Him, Through Me, To You

by Autaria



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-27 14:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30124134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autaria/pseuds/Autaria
Summary: AU where Anakin was raised as a Sith and obsessively stalks Obi-Wan through the Jedi's various assignments during the Clone Wars. There is nothing in the Sith Code preventing attachment, and Anakin soon finds himself developing one toward the Jedi Knight.As Sidious prepares for the end of the Clone Wars, Anakin knows that he has to choose between following his destiny to fulfill his Master's commands and rule the galaxy beside him, or the irresistable Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 24
Kudos: 182





	1. Chapter 1

Obi-Wan stared dully at the lapping embers of Qui-Gon’s funeral pyre. 

_This isn’t how it was supposed to happen._ He’d always imagined Qui-Gon cutting his Padawan braid one day and presenting it to him himself, telling Obi-Wan how proud he was of him. Not Master Yoda, giving him a sad smile as the old troll patted Obi-Wan sympathetically on the shoulder, or Master Windu’s concerned glances every so often at Obi-Wan’s grim expression. Of all the things Obi-Wan could have imagined about his Knighting, this was not how he thought it would go.

\---

There was no time to properly process his grief. Like a hurricane, the start of the Clone Wars swept across the galaxy, causing many planets to scramble to declare their allegiances to the Republic or to the Separatists. As he was taught, Obi-Wan released his emotions to the Force, picked up his lightsaber, and obediently headed to his deployments. With Maul’s sudden appearance came the rumours of the return of the Sith, but the search for the other was impeded with the lack of information forthcoming, and so the Council focused its attention on the war effort.

He was given the commandment of the 212st battalion, and tried to ignore how unprecedented it was for a Jedi to be given a General’s ranking. 

Obi-Wan first felt something _off_ on his second mission offworld since becoming a Knight, on the lush jungle planet of Felucia. The job was simple – to investigate apparent sightings of Wat Tambor and a droid army, but he couldn’t help shake the feeling that he was being _watched_. 

The Force did not provide him with any warnings, but for a good portion of his time on Felucia, Obi-Wan’s skin was constantly covered in goosebumps. 

“You alright, General?” Cody’s voice, slightly muffled from the helmet, startled him from where he had been surveying the dense vegetation near their ship, trying to find anything out of place. He had been concentrating so intensely on using the Force to search their surroundings for enemy presence that he had not even noticed the troopers coming up behind him. 

“I’m fine, thank you,” Obi-Wan murmured, giving Cody a weak smile before casting one last long look at the forest, chewing his lip as he turned away. The Force remained calm around him, and Obi-Wan exhaled audibly, releasing his anxieties into it and resigning himself to another long night of meditation. 

The same unsettling feeling followed him on his next mission to Vandor. A village near Fort Ypso had come under a terrorist attack, but the mountainous terrain meant that they could not land anywhere near the village without being easily spotted. The arduous trek up the mountain in snowstorm conditions would take more than two days, Cody estimated.

The snowy terrain meant that anybody not dressed in white and standing completely still would have been easily spotted, and yet Obi-Wan could not even feel, much less see, anybody else’s presence around him other than the clones. But the feeling of being watched, much like a prey animal in a Nexu nest, stuck with him throughout the entire journey to the village, and by the time they reached their destination he was _exhausted_ , not having slept properly for the past few nights. 

The mission was completed without a hitch, nonetheless, and Obi-Wan thanked the Force silently as they loaded up their terrorist suspects into the gunship and headed back to Coruscant. 

It was only on Coruscant where he felt completely at ease. The next few missions turned out in exactly the same manner – even when some of them were purely diplomatic! – and when Obi-Wan returned to the Temple, he found himself constantly failing Vokara Che’s mandatory health screenings for Jedi returning from offworld missions. 

“You have not been sleeping well,” Master Che had frowned at him, and Obi-Wan had contemplated arguing for just a split second, but he supposed it would be too difficult to explain the dark rings under his eyes. 

On his fifth return offworld, he found himself resigned to – or rather, _slapped with_ – seven days of forced rest in the Halls of Healing. On any other day, Obi-Wan would have tried arguing or charming his way out of it, but as it were, he was too tired to even think straight. He was frog-marched to a ward right next to Vokara Che’s workstation, and collapsed unceremoniously on the bed afterward. 

When he woke up, Master Yoda was sitting at his bedside, patiently waiting for him to wake up. 

“Trouble sleeping, Master Che said you have.” 

Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes, slowly dragging himself up into a sitting position. His muscles protested, having suffered severe fatigue from the exertion during missions and from the lack of proper rest. “Master Yoda,” he tried to greet, but the syllables came out jumbled, his tongue feeling too thick to pronounce the phonemes properly.

“Out cold for thirty-nine hours straight, you have been.”

Well. He supposed sooner or later his narcoleptic medical reports would start getting around to the diminutive Jedi Grand Master. “Just trouble sleeping during missions, Master Yoda.” 

“Happen on your first posting to Bothawui, this did not.”

“No. It only started in Felucia.” Yoda offered him a cup of water from the bedside table, and sat back patiently as Obi-Wan took long gulps, parched as the Tatooine landscape after his long slumber. Thirty-nine hours had to be a new personal record. “I keep feeling as if something…or someone, is watching me.”

“Happen now, does this?”

“No. Not on Coruscant and not in the Jedi Temple. Always offworld.” Obi-Wan pursed his lips. “It did not happen on Bothawui, but it has happened on every single mission since then.” 

“Suffer from offworld anxiety, Master Che suggests you do. Learned of this medical condition only recently, I have.” 

“She told me about it during my last rotation from Loth. But I don’t think it’s anxiety from being separated from Coruscant, Master. If it were that, it would have happened on Bothawui, too, but I felt fine there. It’s just…the feeling that I’m not alone with the clones.” He wrung his hands in frustration. “But the Force tells me it’s just us. I can’t sense anybody else nearby.” 

Yoda frowned. “Discussed the matter with Master Windu, I have. Solo missions, you are hereby taken off of.” 

Relief flooded through his system. That was a good idea. Perhaps having another Jedi with him would help him assuage this feeling. 

Obi-Wan found himself on his next assignment with Mace Windu himself, and indeed, having another trained Force-sensitive around – the Jedi Grand Master, no less – was a balm to his anxieties, and Obi-Wan felt himself much more relaxed (as one can be during a combat mission, anyway) for the whole duration of that assignment. The prickly feeling at the base of his skull, as if there were another pair of eyes on him, never came, and Obi-Wan heaved a sigh knowing that at least he hadn’t completely descended into psychosis yet. 

He returned to Coruscant well-rested, at peak physical condition, and managed to successfully avoid the Halls of Healing. 

His next two missions attached him to Windu again; the first back on Felucia and the second on Naboo. Obi-Wan released any reservations he had about returning to Felucia into the Force, but he found that they were largely unfounded – his time back on Felucia with Mace was undisturbed by invisible eyes. Despite having lost two men in that skirmish with General Grievious, the rest of the group returned to Coruscant largely intact and unharmed. 

The second mission on Naboo was where it regressed.

To increase their chances of pursuing Dooku, Windu had ordered for Obi-Wan to take a path through the Royal Palace, while the Grand Master would try to intercept the fallen Jedi at one of the exits to the Palace. Obi-Wan had complied immediately, not wanting to give Dooku another chance at escaping once more. In the heat of the chase, he had suppressed the memories of Qui-Gon and their encounter with Maul, and focused himself on locating Dooku. The fallen Jedi was slippery, and had disappeared from Obi-Wan’s line of sight. 

The Royal Palace of Naboo was gigantic, with hundreds of rooms, halls and corridors, but he had latched on to Dooku’s cloying Dark Force presence like a tractor beam, skidding through rooms and zig-zagging through corridors to lead him to the Count…

He _felt_ the other intruder before he saw him. Another Dark Force presence, definitely not Dooku’s, stopped Obi-Wan in his tracks, nearly causing him to trip over.

Obi-Wan found himself currently in a long, wide corridor, and blocking his way (preventing him from getting to Dooku!) was a handsome young man – about his age, he guessed, perhaps slightly younger – shrouded in dark robes, his brown hair tousled and his eyes as golden as the twin Tatooine suns during sunset. His Force presence was suffocating – Obi-Wan did not know why he had not felt it before entering the Palace, perhaps the man was shielding – even more thick and nauseating than Dooku’s. 

His throat went dry and his lips parted slightly. _Another Sith?_

The man was smirking, standing very relaxedly. A lightsaber hilt dangled from his belt, but his arms were folded, making no move to reach for it. 

He watched the man’s eyes examining him carefully, analyzing him, before the unknown Darksider stalked toward him, much like a predator does toward their prey, still not making for the lightsaber on his belt.

The prickly feeling at the back of his neck started again. 

This was the person who had been watching him on all those planets.

“You,” Obi-Wan growled, igniting his lightsaber and taking up the opening Ataru stance, causing the man to stop dead in his tracks. The Darkside looked amused that the Jedi had even drawn his weapon, but made no further move to advance forward, instead just standing in the middle of the lavishly-decorated hallway.

“Hello, Obi-Wan,” the handsome Sith spoke, and Obi-Wan’s traitorous knees felt as if they were going weak at the lilts in the man’s voice. 

_How does he know my name?_

“You’re the one who’s been following me on all those planets,” Obi-Wan accused. 

The man’s smile grew wider, but did not confirm or correct Obi-Wan.

“Are you a Sith?” He demanded again, when no answer looked forthcoming from the Darksider. 

“So many questions.” The man drawled, running a hand through his hair. Obi-Wan’s throat tightened at the gesture, and he made a mental note that when he returned to the _Negotiator_ – assuming he survived this encounter, first of all – to meditate for hours to understand _why the kriff_ his body was reacting so traitorously to this handsome Darksider. “You know, we haven’t even properly done introductions yet.”

“You already know my name,” Obi-Wan countered, still not dropping the Ataru stance. 

“It would be lovely to hear it from you yourself, sweetheart.” 

Obi-Wan swallowed, but refused to give the enemy the satisfaction. 

“Anakin Skywalker,” the man said, at last, and his Dark presence enveloped Obi-Wan, cloying but gentle, somewhat like an embrace.

“Are you going to fight me, Anakin Skywalker?”

“I would never fight such a lovely specimen as yourself.” Anakin looked offended. “Although I have to admit that I would appreciate seeing you in battle. I imagine you’d be as graceful as a dancer in a Mon Calamari ballet. I heard about what you did to Maul.”

Who was this Darksider and why was he so charismatic? Charming the enemy’s pants off was Obi-Wan’s specialty. “Then move, and let me get on with my job, unless you want the same thing to happen to you.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t want to fight me, sweetheart. Besides, I can’t do that, I’m supposed to give Dooku a headstart.” Anakin’s eyes were still fixed on Obi-Wan, his gaze – interested?, but there was some exasperation in his voice when speaking about the Count. “He wouldn’t need me to do this if he was faster, but I guess I’m not complaining if it means I finally get to meet you in the flesh.” 

There was something carnal in Anakin’s voice that sent shivers down Obi-Wan’s spine.

“Are you affiliated with Dooku?”

“You could say that, yes.”

“Are you the Master, or the Apprentice?” He was presuming this guy was a Sith, too. Obi-Wan had never met a Sith Lord before Maul, but recently it seemed as if they were popping up all over the place. The Rule of Two was something he’d read about a long time ago, during a research task assigned to him as a Padawan. If this guy was supposed to help Dooku get away, would it mean that he was the Apprentice, and Dooku the Master? Or did it mean he was taking orders from somebody else to assist Dooku? No, that wouldn’t make sense, that would violate the Rule of Two.

“You ask so many questions I’m not able to give you the answer to, sweet one.” That stupid smile, still etched on his face. Obi-Wan wanted to either strangle it off or kiss it off, and it surprised him how much his traitorous subconscious wanted it to be the latter. 

Anakin’s comlink beeped, and he finally stood up straight. “Well, I think that’s my job, done.” He turned on his heel, but not before blowing Obi-Wan an air kiss. “I will be seeing you around, darling.”

Dimly, Obi-Wan was aware that he was supposed to be chasing Dooku, and that Master Windu was counting on him to flush Dooku out of the Royal Palace exit which they had agreed upon to capture the fallen Jedi. He was aware that the proper thing to do would be to chase this intruder, to catch him as well and demand an answer about the Sith out of him, but as it was his mind was clouded with new knowledge of a possible new Sith Lord and the implications of it. 

The Sith. Thought long gone, but now returned. And who knew how many more there could be out there, if the Rule of Two didn’t hold. A new threat to the Jedi Order. 

The swirling black Force presence dissipated, and Obi-Wan was left staring.


	2. Chapter 2

Windu had been initially furious at the loss of Dooku, but when Obi-Wan relayed his story about the new Darksider’s presence, he grew somber and quiet. And when Obi-Wan reached the part about how stifling Anakin’s Force presence was, how much more intense it was compared to Dooku’s, and how the young Sith seemed to know his name, he felt Windu regarding him with solemn, concerned eyes. 

“So the Sith have truly returned.” The Grand Master ran a hand over his face, and Obi-Wan noticed how truly _tired_ he looked. “Come, Kenobi. The Council must convene immediately.”

Obi-Wan found himself standing on the bridge of Windu’s ship as they entered hyperspace, trying not to fidget too much as he recounted the story once more to the flickering holograms of the Council’s Jedi Masters. Yoda was outwardly calm, but his ears were nearly flattened to his head – a clear sign to anybody that knew the diminutive Master well that he was disturbed; Adi Gallia’s tendrils were stiff on her skullcap, and Kit Fisto’s mouth was twisted into a grim frown. 

Master Gallia shifted uncomfortably when Obi-Wan finished speaking. “We have not heard anything out of the ordinary from the other Knights, not even when they were sent to the same planets as Kenobi was sent to.”

The implication was clear. _So he’s only stalking me, then._

“Obi-Wan must be taken off solo missions for the foreseeable future,” he heard Windu say to his left. “Until we know what Anakin Skywalker’s motivations are.”

“I will update the duty roster immediately,” Kit Fisto said.

It was disconcerting how disturbed he felt at the knowledge that a follower of the once-thought long gone Sith Order was stalking him – maybe even flirting with him, judging from their exchange in the Royal Palace? Obi-Wan didn’t even want to think about _that_ – and how relieved he felt to be taken off solo missions. He was a _Jedi_ , for kriff’s sake, and Jedi weren’t supposed to be so easily emotionally imbalanced. Judging from the rest of the Council’s reaction, however, he wasn’t the only one who had been perturbed. 

A firm hand laid itself on his shoulder, and Obi-Wan glanced to his left at Mace. “Get some rest, Kenobi. You look exhausted. Perhaps we may do a joint meditation session later.”

Obi-Wan nodded, exhaling, watching as the Grand Master departed the bridge. He stared into the viewport, at the never-ending blue tunnel of hyperspace, ignoring the buzz of conversation between the clone troopers around him, and idly wondered who Anakin Skywalker really was.

\---

“You look distracted, young one.”

Obi-Wan scrubbed a hand over his face, willing himself to stay awake. The three cups of caf on the table were long finished, and he found himself wishing that he had a fourth, but traitorous Ferus Olin had intervened and informed the beverage-dispensing droids that Obi-Wan was not to be allowed another cup until tomorrow. “My apologies, Master Nu.”

“Nothing to apologize for, Knight Kenobi.” Jocasta Nu handed a datapad to him, patting him sympathetically on the shoulder. “I’ve seen many Padawans in here chugging caf studying for their final theory examinations, but never a full-grown Knight. What is this research project about?”

“Just reading up on the Utapau space ports,” he smiled tiredly at the librarian. “I am due to leave for Utapau tomorrow to join with Master Fisto, and I am unfamiliar with the planet.” Obi-Wan kept his words intentionally vague, and Master Nu understood – mission details were always sensitive. 

The chief librarian nodded, and withdrew. “Take care, Knight Kenobi. May the Force be with you.”

“And you, Master Nu.” Obi-Wan swallowed and turned back to his readings. 

An assassin had tried to kill Senator Padme Amidala whilst on a diplomatic mission to Utapau, and the attempt had been narrowly foiled only with the skill of her companion Jedi, Master Kit Fisto. All traffic coming in and out of the planet had been halted since the attempt, and with the attacker believed to be hiding somewhere near the space ports, the Republic had organized a forensics team to investigate and catch the assassin. Yoda had personally recommended Obi-Wan to join the investigation. 

It had been two full weeks since his encounter with Anakin Skywalker, and Obi-Wan’s anxiety levels had not settled since their face-off in the Royal Palace. Even though he had not experienced that prickly feeling on the back of his neck since touching down on Coruscant, Obi-Wan found himself more alert than usual, constantly examining his surroundings, as if he expected the Sith to jump out at him from behind a pillar.

It had affected his sleep, too. He had managed to narrowly avoid the Halls of Healing once more, but was forced to accept Vokara Che’s sleep suggestions on more than two occasions. And Obi-Wan was definitely very aware of the fact that he’d lost some weight, having not been able to eat properly for the past two weeks – everything tasted like mush – but he thanked the Force his weight loss had not been noticeable enough for Vokara Che to drag him to the ward right next to her office again.

Obi-Wan blinked, suddenly remembering that he had been reading for more than four hours already, and checked the time. It would be close to midnight soon, and even though the Jedi Archives were open twenty-four hours a day, his deployment was due to leave early the next morning. He rubbed his eyes and packed up the datapads, dutifully returning them to their shelves.

\---

The journey to Utapau had taken nine hours, and Obi-Wan had not slept a wink.

He was certainly very aware of Kit Fisto’s concerned sideways glances at him, but did his best to ignore the Jedi Master and focused on waiting for their lead to appear out of one of the spaceport bars. 

“Have you been sleeping well, Obi-Wan?”

There was no lying; one look at his puffy eyes and anybody could tell that he had not been. “Not really, Master.”

“Have you been getting your daily nourishments at the appropriate times?”

Obi-Wan considered just saying yes, but decided to soften the truth. His clothes felt baggier, as if they were hanging on him, and when he stood up suddenly it felt as if his head had entered hyperspace. Worst of all, he couldn’t tell how much of it was due to the lack of sleep and how much of it was due to the irregular eating. “Most of the time, Master. Twice a day, at least.”

“Is your unease linked to the resurfacing of the Sith?”

It wasn’t like he had been alive the _last_ time the Sith had posed a threat to the galaxy. But he supposed that was a nice way of asking if he was disturbed by the fact that he had a Dark Force-user stalker. “Yes, Master Fisto.”

He could sense that there was a lecture coming up, or maybe Kit had more to say, like how guided meditation with Master Yoda was recommended, but at that exact moment, a cloaked figure chose to exit the bar. 

“There’s our suspect,” Obi-Wan stood, ignoring the sudden sparks in his vision, silently thanking the Force that there was a distraction to the conversation. Kit hushed, drawing his hood above his head, and motioned for Obi-Wan to follow him. 

They had not even trailed the suspect for twenty metres before he realized he was being followed. The suspect fled, the sudden speed pulling his hood down, and Obi-Wan could see very clearly that their perpetrator was a male Duros. 

“The path’s a dead end,” he could hear Master Fisto yell, in front of him. “We’ll catch him there.”

They chased the Duros for what felt like hours, but was actually probably less than ten minutes – by the time the suspect reached the dead end – a landing ground for smaller ships, circled by a deep chasm at least forty metres long, with the two Jedi blocking the only escape path – Obi-Wan was panting and out of breath, dark spots eating away at the corners of his vision. 

“We have you,” Master Fisto informed their perpetrator, voice surrounding calm and steady despite the sprinting, and Obi-Wan was thankful that at least _one_ of them was at peak performance to guarantee the mission wouldn’t be a bungle. “There is nowhere to run. Surrender yourself; we have some questions for you.”

The Duros looked desperate, as if he was contemplating listening to the Jedi, but faster than even the Jedi’s Force-enhanced reflexes could react, another figure encased in dark robes emerged from behind the landing ground’s control station, his lightsaber blade sweeping in a wide arc, slicing the Duros’ head clean off. The severed skull tumbled to the ground, where it rolled off the landing ground, dropping directly into the chasm.

Master Fisto ignited his lightsaber immediately, and it took Obi-Wan’s sleep-deprived brain two additional seconds to realize that he probably should be doing the same.

The dark figure stood at the edge of the chasm, where the Duros had previously been standing, and lifted his hood.

Anakin Skywalker’s golden eyes winked back at Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan felt his heart sink. 

The Sith’s Dark Force presence permeated the air, as thick and cloying as Obi-Wan had remembered it from Naboo, and beside him he could feel Kit wrinkling his nose in irritation to the Force presence of the Darksider. Anakin’s aura enveloped them, and while it seemed to drape around Obi-Wan gently like a velvet cloak, it appeared to be filled with malicious intent toward Kit, prodding and poking at the Jedi Master’s Light Force aura.

“So lovely to meet you again, sweetheart,” Anakin’s steady, strong voice called from across the landing ground, his eyes only focusing on Obi-Wan, ignoring the Nautolan Jedi Master, and it sounded as if he truly meant it. 

Obi-Wan tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “A pity I can’t say the same.”

“You must be Anakin Skywalker,” Kit Fisto interjected, stepping in front of Obi-Wan, covering him so that he was blocked from Anakin’s direct line of sight. Inwardly, Obi-Wan was grateful that the Jedi Master had sensed his discomfort at being scrutinized by the Sith. 

The prickly feeling at the back of his neck started again.

Anakin’s eyes snapped to Kit, and the smirk he had been directing at Obi-Wan immediately transformed into a scowl. He began sidestepping leisurely, circling the two Jedi, sizing them up, his lightsaber pointed downward, but maintaining a steady grip on the hilt so that if he were charged, he could easily bring his weapon back up to block a blow. 

“I hear you have been trailing Knight Kenobi on his assignments,” he heard Kit say in front of him. “What are your intentions with one of the Jedi Order?”

He heard Anakin scoff. “I’m not at liberty to disclose _my_ intentions, _Jedi Master_.” The Sith Lord’s tone turned sour, a drastic hundred-and-eighty from its previous sweet cadence when speaking to Obi-Wan.

The Sith Lord charged, and Obi-Wan shook himself out of his stupor to rush in front of Kit and block the first blow. From Anakin’s difference of attitudes toward both Jedi it sounded like he was willing to go easier on Obi-Wan, maybe let him live but take him prisoner, or grant him a quick, merciful death – but toward Kit he was more likely to dismember the Nautolan or rip him limb to limb.

Anakin’s golden eyes widened when he realized it was Obi-Wan who had blocked his first strike, but did not falter as he continued dealing blows to both Jedi. 

It occurred to Obi-Wan that while this was his second time duelling a Sith, this was his first time fighting _Anakin Skywalker_ , a clearly gifted Djem So user. The pace of his counterattacks were grueling and Obi-Wan struggled to get his sleep-addled, nutritionally-deficient brain to focus. He was confident that, if he were at peak performance, he and Anakin would be evenly matched. But as it were, any slip-up could cause the loss of a limb.

Strike. Block. Parry. Sweep. Jump. The hum of lightsabers clashing and the smell of plasma filled the air, and Obi-Wan was glad that they had chosen to do battle in a deserted area of the spaceport. 

They continued the duel, Kit’s superb lightsaber skill combined with Obi-Wan’s subpar attacks pushing the Sith Lord back, but to his credit, Anakin handled two opponents much better than a regular Jedi Knight would. Where Obi-Wan’s fatigued muscles left an opening, Kit compensated, and together they were slowly, but surely, pushing the Sith Lord toward the edge of the chasm.

And then – an opening presented itself. Obi-Wan faltered, and Kit blocked a blow aimed for the Knight – but in doing so left himself open, and Anakin took the chance to knock him off the platform. 

“Master,” Obi-Wan yelled – he felt like the situation with Qui-Gon was happening all over again – but before he could react, Anakin rushed him, throwing him backward onto the platform where he landed, hard, on his back. The impact caused his lightsaber to snap shut, black spots threatening to overwhelm his vision once more, a persistent ringing echoing through his head and drowning everything else out. 

When the black spots dissipated, his eyes were still duplicating images – he could make out three Anakin Skywalkers leaning over the platform in front of him, tracking Kit’s fall down the chasm. His instinct screamed at him to get up _immediately_ , continue fighting the Sith! – but the rest of Obi-Wan’s body could not comply as quickly.

Obi-Wan managed to force himself into a standing position, and re-ignited his lightsaber.

Anakin looked over from where he had been inspecting the chasm, and – was Obi-Wan imagining it? – his angry golden eyes appeared to have softened considerably. He hadn’t even re-ignited his lightsaber in response to Obi-Wan – a clear indication that he did not view the Jedi as a serious enough threat. 

“He’s alive. It’s a lake at the bottom, you know. Nautolans are amphibious.” The Sith must have been affected by Obi-Wan’s crestfallen face, for he had decided to grant the information that at least Kit Fisto was not dead. Anakin’s tone was gentle, as if he was speaking to a spooked prey animal, or – Obi-Wan had heard Aayla Secura use a similar tone on the younglings in the Temple creche.

He shook the thought out of his head, and attacked.

It ended quickly without Kit. Obi-Wan could hear Anakin chuckling as he blocked the first few blows, as if he was just easy combat practice for the Sith Lord – and then Obi-Wan was ploughed backward once again, roughly, this time knocking his lightsaber out of his hand and sending it rolling to the opposite side of the platform. Before Obi-Wan could hit the ground this time, Anakin’s arm snaked out and seized his waist, providing support so the Jedi wouldn’t collapse.

Obi-Wan blinked. 

He had expected death. He had expected Anakin taunting him over how much of a threat he posed to the Sith Lord – that is, none at all – and how poor his lightsaber skills were, before slitting his throat. Or perhaps he would have been knocked unconscious and taken prisoner, and then his lifeless body delivered to the Jedi Council months later.

He had not expected to be _held_ by a Sith Lord, their faces so close together it was almost intimate.

He swallowed.

Anakin’s golden eyes were considering him, tracing the contours of his face as if committing each feature to memory. He was being _studied_ , like a prey animal being watched on by a Nexu. 

“What –” he began, but then Anakin shoved his tongue into his mouth and all coherent thought was driven out of Obi-Wan’s brain. 

The contact was rough. Anakin kissed hard enough to bruise, and it felt as if his mouth was being invaded by Anakin’s tongue, yet at the same time, it felt pleasurable and sweet. Anakin’s Dark Force presence changed slightly to become softer and less cloying, and Obi-Wan’s knees had gone completely jelly, his hands resting against Anakin’s chest instead of pushing the Sith Lord back. It felt as if something primal had been awakened in Obi-Wan to be put into a submissive, receiving position.

Attachment was forbidden to Jedi, and so Obi-Wan had never engaged in sexual acts, not even kissing – knowing they would lead him astray. He was certain that being intimate with anyone would not even be _that_ pleasurable that it justified disobeying the tenets of the Jedi Order. And yet, Obi-Wan could not have predicted that being the recipient of a Sith Lord’s ministrations would have felt like this. Planet-shattering, heart-stopping, reducing all other things – like the ongoing war – to insignificance.

And Force, this Sith Lord tasted _good._

It was not a conscious decision, more like a reflex almost, but Obi-Wan found himself kissing back, wanting to get _more_ , wanting to be the sole recipient of Anakin’s attention till the end of time…

Finally, Anakin pulled back, and released his bruising grip on Obi-Wan’s hips – Obi-Wan was certain there was a black-and-blue handprint forming already – and bestowed Obi-Wan with one last smirk. 

It was _flirtatious_ , Obi-Wan realized. Anakin looked at him as if he was an object of desire; it wasn’t a smirk belittling Obi-Wan’s skills or stature.

“What the –” he started again, but Anakin had walked back to the edge of the landing platform. 

“See you around, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” the Sith Lord smiled brilliantly at him, and then leapt into the chasm.

Obi-Wan scrambled over to the edge of the platform, but Anakin had mysteriously disappeared once more – he wasn’t sure _how exactly_ when it would easily take at least a few seconds to fall through the height of the chasm. A hand wandered to his lips, where he could feel the ghost of Anakin’s touch, as he tried to process _what the kriff_ had just happened.

He could have sworn that Anakin had _winked_ at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with me for this story! :) I imagine everybody's age to be the same as it is in canon during the Clone Wars, just that Obi-Wan is maybe a few years older (3 years-ish?) than Anakin.
> 
> As always, constructive comments are always welcomed and appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

Kit Fisto was miraculously unharmed from the fall. 

The clone medic who’d examined him back on their ship had not been able to hide his shock when the diagnostics results came back, after being told that the Nautolan had plunged more than forty metres into a lake. For any non-Jedi, that would have meant broken ribs and other body parts. 

Obi-Wan knew it was his fault. Had he not been so sleep-deprived and malnourished, there could have been a better outcome. He waited patiently as the clone medics packed up their equipment, informing Kit that they would be keeping him under close examination for a day, just in case there was an injury their scanners couldn’t detect. 

He was prepared to accept a lecture from the Jedi Master about focus, and about how they couldn’t afford one less Jedi in a war, and how he had been making such _stupid_ mistakes in his sleep-deprived state during their fight back on the platform, leaving such easy openings that even a Padawan could have taken advantage of, such simple mistakes which should have been trained out of him during his years with Qui-Gon.

Kit had patted him gently on the shoulder instead, smiled softly at him, and told him to get some rest, firmly insisting that the both of them visit the Halls of Healing together once they were back on Coruscant.

Knowing that it would be near impossible for him to go to sleep unassisted, Obi-Wan had requested a tranquilizer from Waxer.

He lay on the bed in his quarters, waiting for the tranquilizer to kick in and meditating on the day’s affairs. Breathing in deep, Obi-Wan reached out to the Force, allowing it to wrap around himself like a comfort blanket, and began to process the compartmentalized emotions which he had been repressing since Anakin’s dramatic disappearance down the chasm.

The first thing he felt was _shame_. Shame that he had kissed back, even though Anakin had initiated it. Shame that he wanted more of the mysterious Sith Lord – and now Obi-Wan definitely knew why attachment was forbidden and why sexual acts were strongly discouraged – the chances of meeting somebody that produced such high amounts of chemistry like Anakin and him were low, but once you did, you were _addicted_ , and that was when the pitfalls of attachment would creep in, unnoticed, and begin the descent to the Dark Side.

Shame, accompanied by guilt, that he hadn’t been a good enough fighter, causing Kit to plummet forty metres into the abyss. It was just by pure, _sheer dumb luck_ that Kit was a Jedi Master with quick reflexes and years of experience under his belt, and he could react in such a manner to guide his fall so as to escape with little to no injury. If they had been in a situation in which civilians were involved, and Anakin tried to pull the same trick, he wasn’t confident that untrained, non-Force sensitives would have even survived the same fall.

Obi-Wan frowned, exhaling sharply, expelling the emotion into the Force. 

His subconscious told him that this was not over. Even the mere thought of Anakin caused him to feel _something_ , the first tingles of desire and _interest_ under his skin. Was he going to react like this every time he fought Anakin? If so, he would make a very poor Jedi Knight. 

And what about Anakin? He could not understand the Sith Lord’s motives. Skywalker had displayed such a sharp change in temperament when facing Kit and facing him. This was probably something Sith Lords did, Obi-Wan supposed – tried to charm their way under your skin and lower your guard, and then when you least expected it – off your head went with a clean sweep of their lightsaber. 

There were a few things wrong with that hypothesis. Firstly, Obi-Wan had been such a poor opponent on Utapau that it would have been easy for Anakin to just kill him then and there. There were multiple opportunities available for the Sith Lord to just hack his head off – and yet Anakin had not, instead choosing to snog him very hard on the landing platform. And secondly, this was unlikely to be a common tactic among Sith Lords. Maul had not been like that, and neither had Dooku. 

So Anakin was an outlier. Perhaps that was just the natural strategy he employed, turning up his charisma on all his enemies and disorienting them. Perhaps Obi-Wan currently held more worth being alive than dead, and there was some ulterior motive the Sith Lord had with him: information, perhaps. Maybe he regarded Obi-Wan as young, stupid, and easily entranced by an attractive male – thus making an easy gateway for the Sith to infiltrate the Jedi Temple. That was a hypothesis which actually made sense.

 _Young, weak, and dumb._ What an apt portrayal.

He had to be _better_. He would not be the cause of the Jedi’s downfall. Obi-Wan decided that, when he had to be present in front of the Council to deliver their mission report on their Utapau investigation, he would politely request to be taken off the mission roster for the foreseeable future and be assigned a teaching role instead.

_And will you tell them about what Skywalker did to you?_

Obi-Wan swallowed, hard. 

It was at that moment the tranquilizers kicked in, and Obi-Wan welcomed the respite from his screaming thoughts, allowing himself to sink into his bed and finally, finally, rest.

\---

“The suspect is dead.” Kit Fisto reported calmly beside him, a stark contrast to how unbalanced and nervous Obi-Wan was feeling. “We were only able to glean that he was a male Duros.”

“How did he die?” Mace Windu looked irritated. 

“We encountered the Sith Lord Anakin Skywalker,” Kit said, and Obi-Wan could see several Council members’ eyes widening. Mace’s frown grew, and Yoda leaned forward on his seat, shifting his concerned glance over to Obi-Wan. “He beheaded the suspect just as we had him cornered.”

“You seem to be bait for this Sith Lord, Obi-Wan,” Adi Gallia noticed, and Obi-Wan winced.

“Obi-Wan has not been eating or sleeping well because of his presence,” Kit reported, and Obi-Wan was thankful that the Jedi Master was doing all the talking for him – he wasn’t sure how steady his own voice would be, now that they were on the topic of Anakin Skywalker. “Anakin Skywalker has been constantly disrupting Obi-Wan’s assignments, and he does not seem to be deterred by the presence of another Jedi with him.”

“Unsettles you, does Skywalker?” He could feel Yoda’s eyes sweeping over his figure, and he knew the old Master was definitely scrutinizing his weight loss. 

“Yes, Master Yoda.” That came out more steady than he’d hoped for. “I…find myself constantly on edge. On Coruscant, and in the Temple, I am more at ease than I am offworld, but I still find myself being constantly paranoid that he is…watching me, even though I don’t feel that he is. It is becoming a hindrance and affecting my performance in the field.”

“Meditated on this, have you?”

“Yes, Master. Quite often, as a matter of fact.”

“Hmm.” Yoda turned his attention to Kit, even though Obi-Wan was a hundred percent certain the matter was not settled. “And, heard about your deep dive, I did, Master Fisto.”

Kit nodded solemnly. “We took him on, but he overpowered us and threw me off a cliff, leaving Obi-Wan on the landing platform. Knight Kenobi continued fighting, but Skywalker hightailed it. His motives remain shrouded in mystery to us.” Obi-Wan had deigned to give Kit the full run-through of what exactly had happened on the platform, deciding that it would suffice if he told the partial truth. 

Mace was looking equal parts confused and furious. “I have great faith in your lightsaber skills, Master Fisto. It does not sound right to me that you were overpowered by a young, relatively inexperienced fighter like Skywalker.”

“That is my fault, Master Windu,” Obi-Wan interjected quickly. “I was not performing at my peak during the fight. I made stupid mistakes.” He stopped there. There would be no excuses coming from him. He could already see the long lecture forthcoming from Windu about how he was a Knight now, and yet he was not acting like one, allowing himself to be impaired during a critical fight…

“Obi-Wan is not performing well because of the constant anxiety that Skywalker has brought upon him, affecting his sleep and intake of food significantly,” Kit soothed, and Obi-Wan felt ashamed, knowing he did not deserve the kindness and empathy the Nautolan Master was demonstrating. “I have my suspicions, but it would seem that Skywalker has fixated upon him and is determined to stalk him through the galaxy.”

_Like a Nexu selecting a prey. The apex predators always select the weakest member of the group and focus all attention on the target, closing in for the hunt._

“Whatever his intentions are, it’s not going to be good.” Mace Windu frowned.

“Masters,” Obi-Wan began, bowing his head. “I would like to request that I be taken off the mission roster for the foreseeable future and assigned a teaching role in the Temple instead. I am aware that I have not acted the way a Knight is expected to on Utapau and Naboo, and have become a liability to the missions there instead.”

“Hard on yourself, you are, Obi-Wan,” Yoda tapped his gimer stick. “Meditate with me later, you will. Your fault, this situation is not, but management of the current circumstances, our top priority is now.”

“And we cannot afford to bench you now, Obi-Wan,” Windu chimed in. “Our manpower is already spread very thin across the galaxy. From now on, you will be relegated to diplomatic missions only.”

Obi-Wan nodded, the hope dying in his chest. He was certain that it didn’t matter what kind of missions he was to be sent on, combat or non-combat – Anakin would always find him and taunt him. 

_Do not allow the fear to overwhelm you_. He exhaled sharply, releasing the emotion into the Force. This was much easier than the shame he had felt on Utapau – he had been releasing his fear into the Force since he was a Padawan. 

“Obi-Wan,” Mace Windu began again, this time much more kindly. “You are a good Knight. Do not let him win this psychological battle.”

Obi-Wan nodded firmly. 

“Council dismissed,” Windu called, and Kit led Obi-Wan out of the room, a gentle hand pressed to his back, reassuring him that he was not alone.

\---

The next few missions passed undisturbed, thank the Force.

Master Yoda had kept to his word and enforced regular guided meditation sessions. Vokara Che had introduced a mind healer to help with his anxiety – “You don’t _have_ to suffer from trauma before you see a mind healer, Obi-Wan,” – and with regular sleep suggestions, Obi-Wan already felt much more refreshed when he had left for his first diplomatic mission since Utapau to Alderaan, with Saesee Tiin. He had even been eating better, although the weight he had lost was yet to be put back on. 

The Alderaanian mission had gone by without a hitch. So did the assignments on Andara and Bar’leth. Obi-Wan’s expertise at negotiations had come in very handy, expediting the discussion processes, and for once since Anakin Skywalker’s appearance, he actually felt as if he had reached his full potential on his assignments once more. The mind healer prescribed by Vokara Che had really helped, and Obi-Wan no longer felt constantly worried about the possibility of a potential Sith Lord jumping out at him from all corners. 

He occupied himself with the jobs on hand, and soon the thought of Anakin Skywalker was pushed to the very back of his mind. 

Obi-Wan found himself halfway up a mountain on his mission on Metellos when he saw it. 

The vision happened for a split second, but Obi-Wan swore on the Force that he had seen it. The landscape in front of him had changed from rocky mountain terrain to Venator-class Star Destroyer bridge, with the vast darkness of space surrounding the viewport, with twinkling flecks of light from distant solar systems speckled across. There were uniformed officers seated on at the various control stations, their backs turned to him – Obi-Wan couldn’t tell if they were human or another species but they were definitely _not_ clone troopers – and he could have _sworn_ he heard the faint rumble of ion engines, as if he really _was_ on a Star Destroyer. This was a view that wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary if he was on the _Negotiator_ , maybe save for the unfamiliar officers.

Obi-Wan stumbled and tripped over a tree root. 

“General!” Cody grabbed his arm firmly before he could hit the ground and embarrass himself. The counterbalance allowed Obi-Wan to regain his center, and he blinked owlishly at the commander, taking in his surroundings. No, he wasn’t crazy. He was on Metellos, climbing a mountain, with both his feet firmly planted on the ground. He was not on the _Negotiator._

_Then what the kriff had that been?_

He looked up to see Aayla Secura glancing over at him concernedly, her eyebrows raised. “Everything okay, Obi-Wan?”

There was a split-second of contemplation where Obi-Wan wondered if it would be worth telling Master Secura what he had just seen, but he decided to shake if off. “My apologies, Master. I was not mindful of my surroundings.”

Aayla nodded, accepting his easy explanation, and the battalion continued moving forward. 

The next time a similar peculiar occurrence happened was back on Coruscant, where Obi-Wan had been put under prescribed light activity for three days, as was the protocol for any returning Jedi who had completed more than ten offworld missions in a row with less than a days’ break in between. It had been the first day of his forced leave, and Obi-Wan had just returned from the mind healer, optimistic and ready to make full use of his time by catching up on his readings and katas.

He punched in the key to his quarters and had just entered, shedding his outer robe, about to make a cup of tea – 

A sudden pain assaulted him in his forearm, a burning, sharp pain that Obi-Wan had never felt the likes of before, and he crumbled to the ground, suffering too much to even scream. 

He writhed on the cool floor, the pain white-hot in contrast, a vice-grip encasing his forearm. He could not feel the rest of his hand, did not even know if he still retained control over his fingers, it was as if somebody had severed the limb with a lightsaber – 

The pain receded, as quickly as it came, and Obi-Wan found himself panting on the tiled floor of his quarters, his eyes wide, sweating profusely and panting heavily. 

A visit back to the Halls of Healing had informed him that there was nothing wrong with his arm, the nerve system was completely fine, and the muscle percentage was even higher than average, with no fractured bones or snapped tendons. Obi-Wan left the Halls as baffled as the Healer who had tended to him looked when he explained what he had just experienced. 

The next two weeks continued in this manner. Every day, without fail, Obi-Wan would have his vision blacked out, then replaced with another completely random image – a hot desert terrain that looked like Geonosis, or an icy tundra reminiscent of Hoth, and there was even one where he’d seen a dim communications room with a single hologram of a mysterious, somewhat familiar hooded figure, his features concealed except for his jutted chin. 

Obi-Wan thought that they could have perhaps been visions of the future, although it did not really make much sense to him. Force visions – if he’d remembered Yoda’s lectures when he was a Padawan – had meaning behind them. They conveyed proper messages. The Force didn’t just…provide random slideshows on the sights of the galaxy.

Sometimes it wouldn’t be visions. Obi-Wan had been meditating peacefully in the Room of a Thousand Fountains when he could have sworn somebody had laid a tight grip on his shoulder. He’d been so startled, not having sensed anybody nearby, that he’d dropped straight into the fountain, having been meditating on the ledge of the waterfall. There had been nobody even in the room when he had resurfaced, and a probe with the Force confirmed this. 

Obi-Wan had been deciding on whether or not to report these strange occurrences to Vokara Che, in case there was indeed _something_ wrong with him and the mind healer had not worked and now he was hallucinating, when a ping from Mace on his comlink interrupted him, informing him that he would be posted out to Ryloth with Aayla Secura the next day. Distracted by the message, Obi-Wan had busied himself browsing through the mission brief and reading datapads on Ryloth, and the odd occurrences had been temporarily forgotten for the time being.

\---

“We will make camp here,” Aayla Secura declared, pointing to a shallow cave marring the side of a rocky cliff. “Obi-Wan, you will stay with the battalion for the night. I will be back by dawn.”

Obi-Wan nodded. Ryloth was a multi-terrain planet, and the forests had been deemed too dangerous to make camp, despite the good cover the tall trees provided – carnivorous Gutkurrs roamed the area, ready to pounce on easy prey, and Obi-Wan fondly recalled the time Quinlan, then still a freshly-Knighted Jedi, had commed the Jedi Council to report, his robes tattered and shredded, that his ship and all his supplies had been raided by a pair of Gutkurrs. 

They had been sent here to aid in the negotiations between the different Twi’lek tribes; to put a peaceful end to what could otherwise result in a bloody civil war on Ryloth. Of course Aayla Secura had been the first name on the roster; even though she had been brought up on Coruscant, in the Jedi Temple, and had only lived the first few years of her life on Ryloth, the locals would be much more amiable if they saw that their negotiators included one of their own. It had been agreed that Aayla would head off to meet with one of the tribes at dead of night first, to initiate first conversations. 

“Bly, Cameron, with me,” Aayla commanded, and shot a last, concerned look at Obi-Wan. “Comm me if there’s any trouble, Obi-Wan.” 

Obi-Wan nodded, and watched the Twi’lek Jedi Master depart with her two clone companions. He prepared for bed quickly, ensured that the troopers knew their night watch rotation schedule, and promptly knocked out in his sleeping bag. His sleeping habits had become much better since visiting the mind healer, and anyway, they had been trekking for two full days, making their way from one tribe to another. Obi-Wan was _exhausted._

He couldn’t have been asleep for more than two hours when a light touch to his shoulder woke him up. 

Obi-Wan looked around blearily, blinking the sleep out of his eyes, but could not locate the source of the touch. Most of the troopers were asleep in their own sleeping bags, relatively far away from him such that nobody could have woken him up and then sprinted back to their own sleeping bag in time for him to miss them – not like that was something that mature, battle-ready clone troopers would do, anyway – and the only ones awake were the two guards, seated at the cave entrance, talking in hushed whispers. 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. 

Obi-Wan rose, informed the guards that he would be going for a walk to clear his head, and stepped out of the cave. 

The past few times he’d felt that prickly feeling at the back of his neck that meant that Anakin had been watching him from afar, the Sith Lord had cloaked his Force presence very well, causing Obi-Wan to fail to detect the presence of anything out of the ordinary around him with the Force. This time, the Force wasn’t passive – he could feel it beckoning him, nudging him to his left, not screaming danger at him but gently guiding him to where something was calling for him. 

He had walked for twenty minutes, ascending a gentle slope to the top of the cliff, savouring the cool night air, when he’d first felt Anakin’s Force presence, dark but gentle, as he had remembered it on Utapau.  


In the distance, standing facing a deep ravine, was the lean silhouette of a tall figure, and Obi-Wan didn’t even have to _guess_ at who this man was. 

“Hello there,” he murmured, his voice so soft he was not confident the wind would carry it all the way to Anakin.

There was a shift in Anakin’s Force signature, and Obi-Wan watched passively as the Sith Lord spun around, not even bothering to reach for his lightsaber. This Sith Lord had been stalking him since the beginning of the Clone Wars, had himself a thousand opportunities to kill or capture Obi-Wan, and yet had done nothing about it. Obi-Wan was _done_ , and tonight, he would demand an explanation.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, and it was as if Obi-Wan’s name was the most valuable, _precious_ thing the Sith had ever encountered. 

“Why do you keep following me?” Obi-Wan stood his ground, not taking his eyes off Anakin as the Darksider moved toward him, taking small steps like an unhurried Loth cat circling its prey. “What information could I possibly have to warrant the honour of a Sith Lord stalking me?”

Anakin stopped, till they were barely one meter apart, his face twisting in confusion. “Why do you think it would have anything to do with _information?”_

The Sith Lord looked so genuinely bemused that Obi-Wan started to think that maybe his initial hypothesis was wrong. “You’re on the side of the Separatists and Count Dooku, aren’t you,” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “What _other_ than information could you want to win the war?”

Anakin regarded him with deep, golden eyes, and in the bright moonlight Obi-Wan could see the reflective glint of his lightsaber – a clear reminder that Anakin was still a Sith Lord, and Obi-Wan was still a Jedi, and he was very much aware they could be engaged in a lightsaber duel within the next few seconds. 

“I can understand why you would think that,” Anakin began slowly, “but that is not the reason why I have been looking out for you.”

“That is a nice way of saying you’ve been _stalking_ me,” Obi-Wan frowned, his patience beginning to wear thin. “I felt you follow me on Felucia, Vandor, Nothoiin, Tatooine, and a whole bunch of other worlds I can’t even remember, and I saw you on Naboo and Utapau. And from what I know, you’ve only been targeting _me_ , and me alone. So I’m probably just an easy target for you to gain information for the Sith to satisfy their millennia-long goal of bringing down the Jedi, or maybe you think I’m likely to spill some information that could lead to the Separatists gaining the upper hand over the GAR. Well, I think you’ll find getting information out of me won’t be that easy, not even with _your_ charm.”

Anakin looked almost ashamed when Obi-Wan had finished his outburst. “Oh – I didn’t mean to let you think _that.”_

“What else could I have thought?”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said urgently, clasping his hand tightly before the Jedi could launch into another tirade. “I have _not_ been following you for information. I don’t think you’re a weak link for the plans of the Sith, and I am _not_ planning to get information for the Separatists out of you. They can do that themselves, those single-brain celled spineless fools.”

Obi-Wan stayed silent, not trusting his voice. His heart rate had shot up when Anakin first touched him, just as it had on Utapau.

“I apologize if I have been making you feel discomfort,” the Sith Lord continued – when had he gotten so _close_ to Obi-Wan? – “I’m usually very good at cloaking my Force presence. You are the first person who’s been able to sense me even after I’d cloaked myself.”

“I notice you’re not apologizing for the stalking,” Obi-Wan said dryly, but in his mind the cogs were turning. Did Sith Lords actually apologize? All the Jedi texts had depicted them as fearsome enemies, malicious users of the Dark Side of the Force who bore no empathy for other sentient beings – not even for their fellow Sith – and who were willing to do anything to achieve their individual goals.

“I find myself _drawn_ to you,” Anakin explained, his other hand now reaching for Obi-Wan’s free arm as well. 

Obi-Wan looked down at the durasteel fingers which had gently closed around his forearm, and blinked. The last time on Utapau, Anakin had had both his arms intact. 

“Don’t freak out,” Anakin murmured, massaging his forearm gently with his prosthetic arm. “We have a…connection, of sorts. A Force bond.” 

Obi-Wan stared. 

“It’s still in its infancy, still developing. We can’t communicate over it, yet. Have you ever noticed it?”

Obi-Wan’s lips parted slightly in shock, as he suddenly recalled all the odd visions he’d seen in the past weeks, including the one of the Star Destroyer bridge on Metellos; the phantom grip on his shoulder in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, and the intense, burning white-hot pain in his arm when he’d entered his quarters. “I felt…your arm.”

Anakin nodded gravely. 

“This-this is _not_ possible,” Obi-Wan protested weakly, even though he knew it to be true. “Jedi and Sith don’t just form _Force bonds.”_

“I do not know of its origin as well,” Anakin said sincerely, and Obi-Wan believed him. “But the result of it is that you can feel my emotions, and my pain, and see my surroundings, and I, yours.” 

Anakin could see _his_ surroundings? _Holy fuck,_ wouldn’t that mean that he’d practically had a listening ear/eye in on all those confidential Jedi Council meetings, and discussions about war tactics, and – even when he was _sleeping?_

“I haven’t seen anything from you yet,” Anakin stopped him, before Obi-Wan could spiral into a full-blown panic attack. “I can only see what _you_ let through, but you haven’t shown me anything yet, because you didn’t even know the bond existed.” The serious look on Anakin’s face compelled Obi-Wan to believe him, and he supposed it did make sense after all. His shields were airtight; he had been taught and practiced with Yoda himself, especially during those joint meditation sessions.

“You’ve been showing me all those planets?” Obi-Wan demanded. “What were you doing on Hoth? And on Geonosis? _Who the kriff_ even casually goes to Geonosis?”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin interrupted him, bringing his lips to brush the shell of the Jedi’s ear, the intimate gesture calming him down. “I showed you everything intentionally, except for when I lost my arm. That was unintentional. The pain leaked through my shields and onto the bond. I apologize for that.”

“How did you lose your arm?”

“That will be a story for another day,” Anakin smiled at him, a genuine smile, and even though his eyes were golden, Obi-Wan saw and felt no ill-intent in his words. “When the bond grows stronger we’ll be able to communicate over it, no matter how far apart we may be. Then I’ll tell you.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’ve been following me,” Obi-Wan groused, but still not pushing Anakin away. 

“Like I said, I am drawn to you.” The Sith Lord reached into his pocket and pulled out a small chunk of carved metal, displaying it to Obi-Wan in the moonlight. “Your Force signature is the brightest star in the galaxy, and it calls for me, and I fear sometimes that I am nothing more than a moth drawn to a flame. I don’t know whether it’s because of the bond or just because you’re _you_ , but other Jedi certainly don’t have as radiant a Force presence as you do.” 

Obi-Wan could see very clearly the hand-carved Japor snippet, and his throat tightened as he imagined Anakin hunched over, sitting on the floor, working on it, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He allowed Anakin to fasten the snippet around his neck, his cheeks burning, feeling as if he was fourteen again, hearing Siri Tachi declare that she liked him. 

“I find myself intrigued by you, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Anakin murmured, his Force signature calming and soothing, wrapping his arms around the Jedi’s waist in a very suggestive manner, causing Obi-Wan to go weak at the knees again. “For now, I have plans in motion and much to attend to, but I look forward to the day I can whisk you away from your Temple and make you _mine_.” The last word was emphasized in such a carnal fashion that made it _very clear_ what exactly Anakin was planning to do.

“What makes you think I’ll say yes then?” Obi-Wan squeaked. Leaving the Jedi Order was an incredulous suggestion – that was his _home_ , he’d grown up there, served the Order faithfully all his life – and yet he had not found it in himself to protest when the suggestion had come from _Anakin_.

“I _know_ you will say yes then, sweetheart.” A chaste kiss was dropped to his cheek, and Anakin pulled away, his golden eyes hungry and deep, as if he were analyzing every last hair on Obi-Wan’s head.

“Tell your Jedi Council they will find Wat Tambor on Anaxes,” the Sith Lord said. “There is a Separatist intelligence facility there that the Techno Union is helping to set up.” Obi-Wan could feel Anakin opening up his side of the bond to show that his words were the truth, and idly wondered if the tables had turned. _Is the Sith Lord giving away war secrets for me?_

“I will see you again soon, dear one,” Anakin smirked. Obi-Wan watched his suitor disappear into the thick Ryloth forests, his black cloak trailing behind him, wondering what surprises Anakin Skywalker would come up with next.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading if you've stuck all the way through to the end! Do leave a comment, constructive feedback is always welcome :)
> 
> Title blatantly inspired by Madina Lake.


End file.
